Mid-November

Finally got a chance to sit and write a few lines. I have been busy dealing with my sisters estate from afar. Since I am in Canada I have to give administration of Aprille's things to the attorney, Joie Rehcamp. My son was going to take care of it but his mother has erroneously convinced him it will somehow put him on the hook for money. Now I will have to pay a lawyer to do what Joey could have done and earned himself a few bucks. But he is very busy with work and school so I understand. I just wish he didn't hang on his mothers every word, as she is often just plain wrong.

The realtor that I have hired sent some pictures of the little house. It looks ransacked. Aprille kept it so neat. Her TVs and most other electronics are missing. The new futon that she loved has disappeared. I think the cousins must have thought that I had not been there nor knew what was in the house. I gave Bettejean, the daughter of my mothers oldest brother, the refrigerator for a church donation. Perhaps that meant "help yourself".

I do not really care. But it is very disrespectful and I myself felt a bit violated. In our family, and perhaps in most, when someone dies alone, the first "relative" on-site takes what plunder they may want.

It is tough to see what few remaining trinkets and art I knew in my childhood alone in that place. I think of all the abandoned properties I have inspected over the years and of flea-markets. There the last remaining worthless but sentimental treasures of a past life fade away to the dump or someone else's nick-knack shelf.

Little things of beauty meant so much to my mother and sister. The paintings, driftwood, colorful glass of all kinds. Some items belonged to our Great grandmother , Mary Riley. I suspect that these won't be preserved as I am stuck here and have no truly reliable caretaker.

Cold and harsh is the modern world. I suspect at the conclusion of all this I may be able to return to the States for a time. The where and why and when has yet to be determined.

In any case its a bright cool day here on the island. Winter looms as does my 53rd birthday one week from today. I may never know why my 61 year old sister, who seemed healthy in March, just died alone. An old friend told me sometimes an artistic heart just cannot bear the ugliness of the world and reality of life here. I think that my son is right when he says his aunt died of lonliness. She was lost without our mother.

Somehow I have managed to be tougher and more resolute than my sister. I am not as intelligent as she was. But she was my preschool teacher and allowed me to love a life of learning and travel. After the disaster of my life with Shel and the inordinate amount of suffering that caused I feel that some are correct in stating I am too sensitive and a dreamer.

My mother told me all we retain are our dreams and memories. Perhaps I do not hold the keys to fort knox, but in memories and dreams I am rich. Both fulfilled and unrealized. Maybe when I leave this place finally mission accomplished I can write the tale and again sit in the sun.

A legacy of visions.